Tale of the Warden
by Selena Shepard
Summary: Alixon Cousland has lost much, and will lose much. Follow the Grey Warden and her companions as they stop the Blight and destroy the Archdemon. Or die trying. Rated T; subject to change.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: I had previouslly posted this story earlier in another account under another penname. However, seeing as it is better to have only one penname, I brought that story here. Follow my Warden on her adventure throught Fereldan. I'm a bit rusty with my writing, by the way. Apologies in advance if I'm not as good as I used to be, if I ever was good at all to begin with. Now I'm just rambling, carry on!**

* * *

Cold. It was always cold in Fereldan. Yet the bitter wind barely even bothered her as she trotted along with her horse, a man she barely even knew beside her. Not a single word had been uttered from her chapped lips as they left Highever, her home, her life. All she felt was rage. Rage that blocked her mind and ached for blood. Howe's blood. She wanted nothing more than to rip him apart, piece by piece, as he did to her family. She would find him. The Cousland blade would taste Howe blood.

It had been a week and a half of travel, of yearning for blood. Fingers twitching as scenarios raced through her mind. How her blade would lick at his neck slowly, consuming each drop of blood. How she would grasp his disgusting throat, clenching it until no breath passed through it. How she would feed him his own—

"Calm down, Alixon. Your upsetting your horse." A deep voice came from beside her.

"Sorry." Alixon relaxed, her horse following suit.

"We will arrive at Ostagar soon."

"What will happen when we arrive?" The remaining Cousland asked, curiosity kicking in as she realized she had no idea what would happen at the ruins.

"You will meet with the rest of the recruits. You will then perform the Joining. If you sur—If you pass the test, you will become one of the Order."

Alixon merely nodded, a small town coming into her view. "Lothering?" She asked.

"Yes." The senior Warden replied. "We will rest there for a moment and gather supplies. It is still a long ways to Ostagar."

An hour later, they found themselves resting at the local tavern, its locals drinking calmly as someone played a lute. The music entranced Alixon, and she found herself looking around in search of the player. What her eyes met was not what she had expected.

Auburn hair covered a pale face, fingers delicately strumming the strings. Chantry robes covered a thin body perched on a chair at the far corner of the tavern. Pink lips were slightly parted, silently singing. Suddenly, the player looked up at her.

Ocean eyes widened, fingers faulting at the strings, an ill-played note resounding in the tavern. Maker, Alixon had never seen such a color. It was the ocean reflecting off the sky, clouds of uncertainty roaming within them. They seemed to stare at the Cousland heir for an eternity yet seemed to last for a second as the ocean's waves turned away, leaving Alixon choking at shore.

She moved on her own accord, leaving Duncan to his drink, a confused expression on his face. The Chantry sister stood quickly, navigating through the tavern as she neared the door.

"Wait!" Alixon called out. She raced outside, the cold wind stinging her face. It was too late. She looked left and right, yet the woman was nowhere to be found. She had seemingly disappeared into the shadows of the evening.

With a sigh, Alixon returned inside the tavern. What had happened to her? What was that? It had been captivating, like a spell. She had Chantry robes. How could a member of such a false religion be so…captivating?

"I thought you had left me and would have to seek another recruit." Duncan said as Alixon took her seat beside him.

"I just… needed air."

"Of course."

Alixon knew the man didn't believe her lie, but she far from cared what he thought or knew. Alixon knew she would probably never see that woman. She could probably die at the battle of Ostagar for all she knew.

 _That won't happen. Howe still has to pay for what he did. If I die, my family will go unavenged._

She could not deny that woman had stirred something within her, but there were more important things to focus on. Hours later, the duo rode for Ostagar, trying to ride as much as possible before the sun fell beyond the horizon.

* * *

The king was an imbecile. A childish idiot than thought of everything as a game and his men were nothing more than pawns to help him reach glory, pieces of a game in order to be seen as a hero of legend. Idiot. A leader does not act like that. A leader acts with dignity, with strength. A true leader gives strength to his men, not the other way around.

Bryce had taught her that, her father. As teryn, he was a just ruler, a fair man. He was an even better father. He had taught Alixon and her brother Fergus the way of leading justly. Fairness with the usual show of force should those under you fall out of line. Alixon knew that well. King Cailan did not. He seemed to merely—

"Oh!" Alixon exclaimed as she bumped into someone. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine, dear. You seemed to be deep in thought." The woman was old, her grey hair turned white by the dancing snow that fell. Her robe was decorated with the Circle insignia in the front, a long and silver staff strapped to her back.

"You are a mage?"

"I am." She bowed her head. "Senior Enchanter Wynne."

"I am Alixon Cou—err, just Alixon. New recruit for the Wardens." _Introducing myself as a Cousland is not wise. Howe could have men here. And Fergus could still be alive._ "I apologize for bumping into you, Wynne. Are you to fight alongside the," _imbecilic_ , "king?"

"Oh no, my dear. These old bones are no longer fit for such action." The mage answered, laughter swimming in her voice. "I am a healer, granting strength to the wounded and granting more mana to my comrades."

"Do you really have faith in Cailan? He acts like a child."

"A king's duty is to provide morale to his men. Were Cailan to show his negative thoughts, the soldiers would lose morale. With the Maker's blessing, the coming battle will go well."

Alixon snorts loudly, causing a grey eyebrow to raise. "The Maker? This being is false. If he were real, do you not think that he would help instead of lurk around some tainted city waiting for the shining gold to return? Why would he create something only to abandon it? Tell me, Wynne. I know little about magic but enough to know that mages sometimes craft their own staves.

You spend time creating a staff but it doesn't work as you had planned so you go make another one. This one is slightly better; your power travels through it. Yet you leave it to dust in a wardrobe as soon as you finish it. Is that a sound thing to do? You would tend to your staff, practicing your craft with it, keeping it clean of any blemish. Am I wrong?"

Wynne stood silently, her arms crossed over her chest, her stare seemingly contemplating the woman's words. After a short moment, she sighed, her arms uncrossing, collected snow falling from the thin limbs.

"The Chantry teaches us that the Maker left us. Your analogy makes a valid point. But like a staff, the Maker's creations are a tool. When the creator of the tool decides to use the item is when the crafter is ready."

"That does not make him sound any better."

"It does not. But it leaves you something to contemplate, does it not? Now, I'm sure Duncan has more important things for you. May you find victory in the coming battle, Alixon." With another bow of her head, the mage walked away, leaving behind a still Maker-hating Alixon as she watched Wynne's retreating form. The Cousland shook her head, turning.

Only to crash into someone else.

"By the Void! What is wrong with me?" Alixon cried out.

"Whoa, there! Are you okay? You seem…tense."

"I keep crashing into everyone!"

The man laughed, his brownish hair shaking slightly. "It happens to us all. When I came here, I fell face first when I bumped into one of the king's guards."

Alixon raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"I'm Alistair, by the way. Junior Grey Warden." He extended his hand in greeting.

Alixon shook the offered hand. "I was looking for you, actually. Name's Alixon."

"The new recruit! Duncan told me about you. A pleasure. The other recruits and I have been waiting for you to arrive. Come, let's head to the Warden camp. The others are there."

Everything seemed organized. Each group had their respective tents, soldiers and squires going to and fro. Some tents were larger than others, the King's being the largest. _Guess his imbecilic head is too big to fit in a regular tent._ A though suddenly occurred Alixon.

"Hey, Alistair. Do you know if the Cousland family sent their soldiers?"

"I didn't realize you knew they were coming."

"I uh… have a friend that works for the Highever family. I was thinking of stopping by for a moment."

"Well, you're out of luck for the moment. They're camped down in the valley and we won't be going there until the battle starts tonight. I'm sure you can find your friend after the battle."

"Are you sure I can't go? There has to be a way I can go down there."

Alistair shook his head. "I'm sorry. We're going to be busy preparing for the Joining. There won't be much time for anything."

Alixon sighed. "Then let's get this Joining over with."


	2. Chapter 2

It had been quite harrowing, acquiring the darkspawn blood. Finding it was easy; defeating the darkspawn was the tricky part. They were merciless monsters, varying in size and strength. Their sick stench didn't help much, either. They were… unholy, for lack of a better word. Fortunately, Alixon wasn't alone. With her were Alistair, Jory, and Daveth. The latter was quite sneaky, but he was a good fighter regardless. A thief if she had ever seen one. His incessant, lusty looks made her want to shove her blade into his skull. Alixon refrained from doing so, however, if only barely.

Ser Jory was...meek. A coward, really. Appearances surely lied when it came to him. Tall, well-built, wielding an enormous sword. Yet he feared everything, and questioned everything. Alixon couldn't wrap her head around how a knight could be so frightful, or how she ended up with those two, but she preferred to let her anger out to the darkspawn.

Alistair was not what Alixon had expected, if she had any expectations at all for a man she didn't know. He could be serious when he wanted to, but deflected things with humor. All se got out of him was his time as a Templar. The Cousland couldn't decide whether his personality it was cute or annoying. Time would tell how she would fare with the lot she walked the Wilds with.

For now, their mission was to find some treaties left in some abandoned Warden outpost somewhere in the Wilds while obtaining darkspawn blood. The blood was already safely tucked in Alixon's pack, three vials filled with thick, dark, gory liquid. As Alixon looked ahead, she caught sight of a crumbling tower.

"That must be the outpost." She remarked.

"Yes, that's exactly it." Alistair responded. "Let's hope the treaties are still there."

"Then we get out of here quickly. This place gives me chills." Daveth commented.

Alixon shook her head, silently berating the man's superstitious nature. Arriving to the broken outpost, a few things poked out of the ground, remnants of whatever-or whoever- stood there once. Grass and weeds covered most of the surroundings, a few bones of creatures long dead adding to the desolate place. Lying broken near those bones was an empty chest that bore the seal of the Grey Wardens.

"They're not here. We were too late, apparently. Either scavengers or the darkspawn got them." The junior Warden said, rather disappointed.

"Well, well. What have we here?" The voice came from behind the group. A woman stepped out of the shadows, her outfit leaving little to the imagination. Her top was a dark, alluring purple, accompanied by a black skirt fashioned from different materials. Strapped to her back was a dark, wooden staff.

"Are you a vulture, I wonder? A scavenger? Come to these darkspawn-filled Wilds of mine in search of prey?" Alixon watched her cat-like steps as the stranger approached them. "What say you, traveler or intruder?"

"We're neither." Alixon responded firmly. "And frankly, you don't have the right to call this place your own."

"Hmm, do I not?"

"Careful," Alistair warned, "She may be Chasind; others may be nearby."

"Ooh, you think barbarians will swoop down upon you?" The stranger asked dramatically.

"Yes, swooping is bad."

"She's a Witch of the Wilds, I tell you. She'll throw us in a pot, she will." Came the frightened remark from Daveth.

"If the pot's warmer than this place, it'll be a nice change." Jory replied.

Alixon pinched the bridge of her nose. "Enough, all of you."

The stranger gave a sly smile. "You, there. Women do not cower like men do. Tell me your name, and I shall tell you mine."

Alixon pondered things for a second. Clearly, the strange woman was confident and knew her way around the Wilds. She could serve in finding those documents.

"I'm Alixon. A pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"My, my. Now that is a proper greeting, even here in the Wilds. You may call me Morrigan."

"You wouldn't happen to know what happened to the documents that once were here?"

"I might."

Alistair jumped in the conversation. "You stole them, didn't you? You're some kind of evil...witch-thief!"

"How very eloquent. How does one steal from dead men?"

"Quite easily, it seems. Those documents are Grey Warden property and I suggest you return them."

"I will not, for 'twas not I who removed them! Invoke any name you want; I am not threatened."

"If you didn't take them," Alixon began, "then do you know who did?"

"'Twas my mother, in fact."

"Alright, then. Can you take us to her so we can get the treaties?"

"Now that is a sensible request."

"You can't be serious." Alistair said.

Alixon sighed. "Unless you have a better idea on getting the documents we need, I suggest you follow the lady here."

"Follow me, then, if it pleases you."

######

Morrigan had an alluring aura about her. Throughout their entire trek deeper into the Wilds, she held her guard up, though to the untrained eye, she seemed to be walking normally. Alixon, however, was intrigued by this strange woman. The way she carried herself was astounding, really. Keeping your guard up while looking like a noble took a lot of practice, Alixon knew. Morrigan seemed to have mastered that, despite living in a place where a noble would never find himself. She silently thanked the Wilder woman for the distraction; her destructive thoughts had fled the Cousland's mind since her group encountered her.

Finally, they arrived to a small wooden hut, an old woman standing outside, watching them approach.

"Mother." Morrigan greeted. "I bring you here some Grey Wardens who-"

"No need." The old woman interrupted. "I was expecting them."

Alixon snorted lightly, crossing her arms about her chest. "You expect us to believe you were expecting us?"

"Believe what you will, Warden. Shut one's eyes tight, or open one's arms wide; either way, one's a fool. But you're here for your documents, are you not? Not to hear an old woman ramble." She reached into a pocket on her tattered outfit, retrieving three scrolls. "And before you begin barking, the protective seals wore off long ago. I have protected them." She continued as she handed them to Alixon.

"You-" Alistair stopped himself suddenly. "Oh. You've protected them."

"Why not? I assumed they would come to serve some purpose in the future. It seems I was correct."

"We thank you for your assistance. Might we know your name?" Alixon asked.

"Name's are pretty, but useless. If you must know, however, you can call me Flemeth."

A yelp came from behind Alixon. "F-Flemeth?" Daveth quivered. "You're the Witch of the Wilds."

"Ha! Like I said earlier, believe what you will. If you wish to believe that I eat children for breakfast, go ahead. I care not."

"Well, I believe we've overstayed our welcome." Alixon said, ready to leave the place. "Thank you, Flemeth and Morrigan, for giving us these treaties."

"A word of advice before you leave, Warden: tell your leaders that this Blight is far more dangerous than they realize. They should not take it lightly."

Skeptically, Alixon gave a nod and said a final farewell. Morrigan accompanied the group back to Ostagar at Flemeth's request, though she did not seem all too content to do so. It was nightfall when they finally arrived at the outskirts of the Wilds.

"I wish you luck, Warden." Morrigan spoke before leaving.

"May our paths cross again, Morrigan."

"We will see."

* * *

 **AN: I usually don't add so much canon dialogue, but this part is probably my favorite conversation, hence all the in-game script thrown all over the place. If that's not your taste, worry not. The rest won't have dialogue like this. It'll be purely my own. Hopefully. Hope you enjoyed it. Tell me to try harder if you didn't.**


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